Operation Hot Dog
by Red Witch
Summary: Archer's latest secret CIA mission is a lot of baloney.


**Once again Archer did something to the disclaimer that I don't own any Archer characters. Just more insanity from my brain about secret missions that the rest of the gang never knew about. (Or cared to know about. Same difference.)**

 **Operation Hot Dog**

"I can't believe you're making me do this **again,** " Archer groaned into his phone as he left his apartment. "I didn't join the CIA to be a glorified delivery boy."

"No, you joined for the free travel and hookers!" Mallory snarled at her son as she entered her office, talking on her phone. "And whatever other cheap thrill you can get."

"Again with the tone," Archer remarked.

"You're just lucky I was able to convince the CIA to give you another chance after you screwed up your **last** secret courier mission!" Mallory snapped. "Apparently that reporter has scammed a lot of CIA agents out of information."

"I'm amazed the CIA didn't order me to take her out," Archer remarked.

"Knowing you, you would interpret that order **differently!** " Mallory snapped. "Like that Italian spy a few years ago?"

"Oh how long are you going to harp on **that**?" Archer snapped. "So I dated someone I was supposed to assassinate?"

"Yes and because you so needed to get laid," Mallory sneered. "And what happened as a result?"

"Mother you don't need to recap…"

"The weekend ended with six dead agents, a dead ambassador, three destroyed cars, a fire, an international incident, and a huge hotel bill due to your weekend of debauchery!" Mallory snapped.

"To be fair only two of the agents killed were ours," Archer pointed out. "Three were ODIN's. And one was that Interpol guy."

"And didn't I get an earful from **that** agency!" Mallory snapped.

"And I'm guessing that little incident in the Alps didn't make them any more fond of us," Archer remarked as he went into the elevator.

"No it did not. Nor all the other times you cocked up an assignment because you were thinking with your penis!" Mallory snapped. "So now listen carefully Sterling Mallory Archer…"

"I know what to do Mother!" Archer snapped.

"Repeat it back to me," Mallory said. "I just want to see if you retain anything other than sex acts in that depraved booze soaked brain of yours."

"It's simple!" Archer said in a bored voice. "I go straight to Central Park to a hot dog stand with three red balloons on it. I ask the vendor for a C-Dog with everything. He slips me a hot dog with a tiny microchip inside the hot dog…"

"Do **not** eat the hot dog!" Mallory barked.

"Duh!" Archer snapped. "Then I go directly to the harbor. Give the hot dog to the captain of the yacht Lucky Louie who is waiting for me. Come to the office and tell no one about it under pain of death and pretend I was at a bar blah, blah, blah…"

"Good. Don't screw this up," Mallory snapped.

"You know this plan is unnecessarily complicated right?" Archer asked. "I mean couldn't they just give the microchip that has whatever it has directly to this captain or something?"

"No, Sterling. We need to keep this operation strictly quiet!" Mallory said. "This is top secret!"

"And having a guy in a suit give a sea captain a hot dog in the morning for no reason is **perfectly normal** ," Archer quipped. "What is on this microchip anyway?"

"Something about a special kind of GPS that can override Russian spy planes and download their information or something," Mallory shrugged. "Apparently it's going overseas to a secret CIA base in Belarus where they're going to test it out."

"Wait a yacht is sailing **to Belarus**?" Archer blinked. "Isn't Belarus **a land locked** country? As in not surrounded by water on any front?"

"It's not going directly to Belarus ass!" Mallory snapped. "It's going to sail to France where it will be given to a courier that will take it on a train to Poland then go to another carrier who will go on another train to Belarus! Where it will be delivered to the CIA base that's underneath a sausage shop."

"Who came up with this plan? Oscar Mayer?" Archer snorted with laughter.

"Sterling…"

"I mean come on!" Archer was laughing as he went to his car. "Even for the CIA this plan is ridiculous!"

"Sterling…"

"It's baloney that's what it is," Archer laughed at his own joke. "Literally…"

"Sterling…"

"Think about it," Archer laughed. "The CIA is running a major operation…to transport a single hot dog across the Atlantic! How much are they spending on this just out of curiosity? Because I bet it's more than what most people spend on hot dogs in a year!"

"Sterling…"

"What do most people spend on hot dogs in a year?" Archer thought aloud. "That's a really good question."

"Sterling…Don't screw this up!" Mallory snapped.

"What are they calling this operation?" Archer scoffed.

"It's…Not important," Mallory winced as she looked at her files on her desk.

"What is it?" Archer asked. "Come on Mother you know I won't stop until you tell me!"

"It's called…" Mallory sighed. "Operation Hot Dog."

"Oh there's an **original** code name," Archer scoffed.

"Yes well I admit there is **some** absurdity in this…" Mallory sighed.

 _"Oh I wish I was an Oscar Mayer wiener!"_ Archer sang cheerfully.

"STERLING MALLORY ARCHER!" Mallory shouted. "Just get this done! And I do not want this to be a repeat fiasco of the incident at Boston Harbor!"

"Oh come on!" Archer groaned. "That was years ago! And I only just started as an agent then!"

"You screwed up a very simple assassination assignment," Mallory went on. "All you had to do was go to the yacht in the Boston Harbor, pretend to be a waiter…"

"It wasn't a waiter! It was a chief steward," Archer corrected.

"Really? **That's** what you remember about that mission?" Mallory asked in an acid tone. "Because I remember a few **other things** about that mission!"

"Oh here we go…" Archer groaned as he went to start his car.

"The number one thing is that you went on the **wrong ship**!" Mallory snapped. "Which you would have figured out if you had paid attention to your job for ten seconds instead of organizing a huge party where the Harbor Patrol had to shut you down!"

"Tried to shut me down," Archer corrected.

"And then you tried to outrun them in the yacht which you commandeered and ended up ramming it into the pier!" Mallory snapped. "Do you have any idea how much I had to pay to not only bail you out, but to repair damages to the pier and that dammed boat?"

"You forget that the target was at the pier and I killed the guy after I rammed my ship into him! So win, win!" Archer scoffed.

"You didn't kill the target by ramming him with the ship!" Mallory snapped. "He died from complications of pneumonia!"

"Which he got falling into the extremely cold ocean after I rammed into him with the yacht!" Archer barked. "So it counts!"

"NO IT DOES NOT!" Mallory shouted. "Sterling Mallory Archer if this turns into a repeat of that incident so help me…"

"Love to listen to you lecture me Mother but I have a mission to do," Archer said before he shut off his phone. "Damn it. I had something better for that. Something with Frank N' Furter…Nah. The moment's passed."

Sometime later…

"How many freaking yachts are there?" Archer grumbled as he walked around the harbor with a hot dog in his hand. "Jesus Christ why does the CIA have to make things a hundred times more complicated than it has to be?"

He stopped for a moment. "Oh great. Now I'm starting to sound like Lana."

He started to walk again. "That's the real reason I can never tell her about this mission. She'll just go on and on until my ears bleed!"

"HEY YOU!"

"Huh?" Archer looked behind him. Standing there was an irate man wearing a blue captain's outfit. He was standing near a huge yacht anchored to the dock. "OVER HERE YOU IDIOT!"

"Don't call me an idiot when you're just standing there shouting like an idiot!" Archer snapped. "Wait are you the guy I'm supposed to give the hot dog with the microchip to?"

"DON'T JUST YELL OUT THE MISSION RIGHT OUT IN THE OPEN YOU MORON!" The Captain yelled. "FOR ALL YOU KNOW I COULD BE A RUSSIAN SPY!"

"No, you aren't," Archer scoffed as he walked over to him. "If you were a Russian spy or an enemy agent you wouldn't make such a big deal out of this. Where were you anyway?"

"Where…? I was standing right here and watched you walk by me **three times!"** The Captain shouted. "And you're also late!"

"Well it's not my fault!" Archer snapped. "There are a hundred hot dog vendors and they all had freaking red balloons tied to them! It took me forever to find the right one. Then I had to go all the way back to my car and the traffic was just…"

"I don't **care** about that!" The Captain snapped.

"I'm just saying this is a stupid mission," Archer said. "A microchip in a hot dog? Really? Did Oscar Mayer come up with this plan? Or how about Frank N' Furter?"

"Just give me the damn dog…" The Captain growled.

"You guys must be spending a fortune for what has got to be the most expensive hot dog take out in history," Archer snorted.

"Just give me the dog," The Captain snarled.

"Hey did you know people in the United States alone spend over a hundred and one billion dollars a year on hot dogs?" Archer asked. "Just looked it up."

"You might look up a new job in the **employment section** of the paper if you don't give me that hot dog!" The Captain shouted.

"Calm down Captain Crunch. Wait…that doesn't actually go with this mission," Archer frowned. "Damn it. I should have had something better for this."

"Where the hell does Hawley **find** these people?" The Captain groaned. "Just give me the damn hot dog!"

"Clearance code first," Archer chirped. "How do I know you're not an enemy agent?"

"Oh for the love of…" The Captain grumbled.

"I'm **waiting** ," Archer said cheerfully.

"I **hate** the guy who thinks up these stupid codes," The Captain rolled his eyes. "I wish I was an Oscar Mayer Wiener."

"Well you're already a wiener so you're halfway there," Archer laughed.

"And I thought Slater was annoying!" The Captain grumbled. "Just give me the damn hot dog!"

"Your hot dog sir," Archer dramatically presented it.

Then just as dramatically, a seagull flew down and grabbed the hot dog with its beak.

"WHAT?" The Captain yelled.

"You've got to be kidding me! I've heard of a plan being for the birds but not literally!" Archer snapped as he brought out his gun.

"What are you doing? NO! NO! NO!" The Captain shouted.

Too late…

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Damn it! How does a seagull know how to fly serpentine?" Archer shouted as he fired his gun several times. "DIE YOU DAMN SEA PIGEON!"

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" The Captain yelled.

"Hey! You want that hot dog back or not?" Archer snapped as he kept firing. "Damn it! How did I miss?"

"You idiot! We're supposed to be discreet!" The Captain shouted. "Firing a gun into the air will bring the attention of…"

"FREEZE! DROP YOUR WEAPON!"

"Eat lead bird!" Archer ignored the harbor police. Until they shot him with a taser. "EEEOWWWWW!"

"Harbor patrol…" The Captain groaned. "Uh officers I have no idea who that man is. He's mentally deranged…"

"Damn you Johnathan Livingston Seagull…" Archer groaned as he lay on the pier.

Several hours and a few bribes later…

"A seagull…" Mallory glared at her son in her office. "You lost a billion dollar microchip…TO A SEAGULL?"

"Yeah, I did not know seagulls ate hot dogs," Archer winced. "Or they could dodge bullets."

"Do you have any idea how much money I had to pay to bribe the authorities not to press charges?" Mallory snapped.

"I don't see the problem! It's just a damn seagull!" Archer barked. "It's not like there aren't a billion of them in the world."

"Which is now the most expensive flying fowl in the world!" Mallory barked. "And the CIA in its infinite wisdom doesn't have a tracking chip to track the tracking chip! As we speak there are probably agents scouring garbage scows and trash dumps all over the Eastern seaboard in hopes that the chip passed through that damn bird!"

"I told you this plan was unnecessarily complicated," Archer shrugged. "This plan was literally…"

"Sterling if you say for the birds I will not be responsible for whatever physical violence I will inflict on you!" Mallory shouted. "And it will be extremely painful! Possibly emasculating! Literally!"

"Well not literally, literally…" Archer gulped.

"I don't know…" The wheels in Mallory's twisted mind were turning. "I mean…I already have two grandchildren. And there's plenty of sperm samples left. It's not like I can't do any worse with the next generation…"

"Uh Mother…" Archer coughed.

"You'll be calmer and more settled down once you no longer have any interest in chasing after whores," Mallory kept thinking. "Who knows? Maybe you'll even read a damn dossier every now and then? It's not like you will have any interest in reading porn anymore. Your mind will find other ways to occupy itself."

"Mother come on…" Archer said nervously. "You've made your point."

"True you'll balloon up to be as fat as Pam…" Mallory kept thinking aloud. "And I'll have to pay more for larger suits and to turn the elevator into a freight elevator. And I won't be able to send you out on honeypot missions…"

"Okay Mother a joke's a joke…" Archer said. "It's not funny anymore."

"Then again I would save a fortune on all the prostitutes you no longer would need so it evens out," Mallory kept thinking. "And I could just always send Cyril on honeypot missions I mean…He does have the equipment for it."

"All right now you're just being mean!" Archer barked.

"And I know Gillette would lose any interest he ever had in you," Mallory remarked. "Then again all the times you paralyzed him might have already done that."

"Mother are you drinking Glengoolie Hard Blue?" Archer asked. "Because sometimes you do get crazy schemes when you drink that stuff."

"Now that I think about it with you losing interest in sex productivity would skyrocket around here," Mallory grinned. "And sexual harassment complaints would plummet."

"Seriously Mother please put the Hard Blue down…" Archer gulped.

"And as for more heirs…I could always personally pick out…Hmmm…If I can somehow inseminate Cheryl with Sterling's sperm…That would get me an in with the Tunt fortune!" Mallory had a gleam in her eye.

"WHAT?" Archer shouted.

"And who knows? Cheryl could have complications due to the birthing process or an accident with her choking kink…" Mallory made a sinister grin. "No, the erotic asphyxiation angle is more believable. Of course I'd have to raise that poor little baby on my own. But I think a good share of the Tunt fortune will help me in my grief. Heh, heh, heh…"

"Mother, have you eaten today?" Archer asked in a nervous tone. "Seriously, I think you have low blood sugar."

"Then again I don't think I can risk the obvious genetic instability and inherited insanity in my bloodline," Mallory frowned. "Unless I can get Krieger to isolate the crazy gene…"

"LANA!" Archer shouted. "LANA! LANA!"

"Don't bother," Mallory glared at her son. "She went home to be with her daughter."

"PAM!" Archer shouted. "PAM! KRIEGER! RAY! RAY! CAROL! No wait…NOT CAROL! RUN CAROL! RUN! OKAY CYRIL! I'LL EVEN SETTLE FOR CYRIL!"

"They're all gone," Mallory snapped. "They all snuck out early again to get soused at the bar. Which was very convenient for me seeing I had to go down to the police station and bail you out of your latest failure!"

"MILTON!" Archer shouted. "MILTON! GET HELP BOY! GET HELP!"

"Oh stop being such a drama queen!" Mallory barked. "Are you in competition with Ray? It's only a fantasy. But if you don't start shaping up it will become a **reality!** Do you **understand**?"

"Yes, I understand…" Archer nodded nervously.

"Now as far as anyone else is concerned you just had another one of your infamous benders," Mallory growled. "So you will say **nothing** about this latest disaster to **no one** tomorrow! Am I **clear**?"

"Crystal," Archer gulped. "But it's not my fault…"

"GET OUT!" Mallory shouted. Archer ran like a bat out of Hell.

"Ugh…"Mallory groaned as she poured herself a drink. "If it wasn't for the fact that Sterling would get fat and people would blame me for it…Well technically yes it would be my fault. But they would think it was due to my poor parenting for his slovenly ways. Not the real reason."

"On the other hand," Mallory took a drink. "I mean…I do have his sperm samples tucked away. All I need is a halfway decent genetic egg to fertilize. I mean I may have lucked out with Lana compared to the Irish whore…And considering who he gives his sperm away for free…I couldn't do any worse…"

"Unless…" Mallory blinked. "I wonder how far Krieger has really come with his cloning technology."


End file.
